


the weight of skin

by whiskerprince



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Biting, Friends With Benefits, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Teasing, hangyul: can we PLEASE focus, just in case the lyric summary is misleading LOL, push/pull dynamics, wooseok: :///
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 07:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20720735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskerprince/pseuds/whiskerprince
Summary: How come I see you and ache instead?





	the weight of skin

**Author's Note:**

> well this WAS supposed to be a respectable relationship development fic but as you can see from the rating and word count it is not

  
"Hey, it's just me."

Wooseok looks up at the quiet knock and the click of his bedroom door opening. Hangyul pokes his nose in, smiling quickly at Wooseok and easing himself inside, closing the door behind him. He's got his laptop balanced in one hand, matching Wooseok's laptop propped up on his crossed legs. Wooseok doesn't make room on his bed and Hangyul doesn't invite himself onto it; he drops into a bundle of limbs on the ground in front of Wooseok, the visor of his backwards cap prodding Wooseok's shin.

Wooseok unfolds his legs and pushes Hangyul's shoulder with his bare toes. "Move," he says. "Your hat is poking me."

"Okay, okay." Hangyul laughs and grabs Wooseok's foot, flashing a grin over his shoulder. He hooks Wooseok's calf over his shoulder fully and leans back against the bed. "We're looking at my PC anyway," Hangyul adds before Wooseok can complain. Dutifully, Wooseok shrugs one shoulder and closes his laptop, setting it aside.

He leans forward, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his hand. "Well? How's the venue look?"

"Pretty big," Hangyul says, pulling up the schematics. "Not as big as Gocheok Sky Dome, but it's pretty intense. And our first major overseas show, so the kids are sure to be nervous."

"Mmm." Wooseok hums in agreement. "We'll have to see if we can get in earlier just to feel out the stage. Kids'll be less nervous if they get a couple chances to familiarize themselves with the space. Indoors, right?"

"Yeah," Hangyul says. "Management was careful to avoid booking events with outdoor venues. I think we had to cancel a show in Singapore because of that? They're not taking any chances with Yohan barely back in business."

"Good," Wooseok says. His eyes slide from the schematics on Hangyul's screen to Hangyul's ear, intruding on his field of vision and winking in the low light of Wooseok's bedroom. Hangyul is wearing a thick, silvery hoop earring. Even with Wooseok's blinds pulled and the ceiling light turned off, the metal manages to catch enough light from the purple string lights in Wooseok's room to sting his eyes, like a bauble on a Christmas tree. Wooseok sits back and lets his hand fall to Hangyul's ear.

Hangyul's voice does not waver as he continues the breakdown of their rehearsals for KCON Japan, not even when Wooseok's fingers find the lobe of his ear. He tilts his head towards Wooseok slightly. Wooseok pinches the hoop gently between his thumb and forefinger, rolling the metal over his skin. The piercing does not give like a fake earring would, instead allowing for a pleasing tug of skin that draws Wooseok's eyes back to his fingers instead of the work at hand. It paints a lovely picture, the lavender hue of his pale skin and the purpled indigo of Hangyul's ear in shadow, the sharp blink of his piercing to draw attention to the contrast. Wooseok gives his attention back to Hangyul after a moment.

"—We don't really have a great concert-finishing song, but I was thinking 'Move' would be a candidate to close out our segment," Hangyul says. "Our members can spread out to the extended stage for the last chorus to hype the crowd."

"I'm amenable to that," Wooseok says. "Should we switch sides mid-performance so every member gets to greet the left and right?"

"There's always the encore stage," Hangyul reminds him.

"Ah. Right."

Wooseok must be tired. His eyes keep dropping away from the laptop to look at Hangyul. Hangyul's shirt is cut wide on the neck—a bit unnecessary for pajamas, in Wooseok's opinion. His hair sticks flat to the back of his neck and Wooseok marks a water droplet trail and the sheen of slightly damp skin. He sniffs lightly and is hit by the masculine and clean scent of Hangyul's shampoo. And...

"Did you shave?" Wooseok asks, cutting Hangyul off in the middle of his sentence.

"I—pardon?" Hangyul turns his head. Wooseok's fingers are still on his ear. Strange. He doesn't remember ordering them to stay there.

"You smell like shaving cream," Wooseok says. "And you're—" He frowns at his fingers, moving with a mind of their own to touch the edge of Hangyul's jaw before falling away. His skin is smooth and soft to the touch. "You did."

"Uh...sorry?" Hangyul says. "Does shaving cream smell bother you?"

"Of course not. I shaved yesterday with the same brand."

"Then—are you alright?" Hangyul tilts his head to the side.

"Yes," Wooseok says. "A little tired, maybe." Or a lot. He wants to touch Hangyul's jaw again.

"We can stop for today," Hangyul says. "Or I can go over it with Seungwoo-hyung first?"

"Hyung already went to sleep," Wooseok says. "I want you to keep talking."

"If you're sure." Hangyul eyes him for a moment, then turns back to the screen. "Like I said earlier, I think we need to practice eleven-member 'U Got It' and 'Flash' a little more. Junho still gets tripped up around this part in the choreography." He points at the screen where the choreo for the third verse of 'Flash' is playing.

Wooseok follows his finger. "I agree. And Minhee is fighting off a cold, so we have to consider what to do in case he comes down with something more serious and can't go to vocal coaching."

"Gotcha," Hangyul says, throwing Wooseok a thumbs up.

_Warm, angular hands holding his sides, just below his ribcage, and sliding down to his hips, Wooseok's bare skin burning up and itching so badly he could crawl out of his own body with want—_

Wooseok blinks rapidly. Maybe he wasn't out of it in a tired way after all.

Hangyul's tattoo peeks out from beneath the edge of his shirt, suggestive in its dark, curling lines over tan skin. Wooseok, not for the first time, is struck by Hangyul. That he could be clutching Wooseok's ankle absentmindedly, talking about show preparations and practice. That he could be crisscrossed on the floor in front of Wooseok, in Wooseok's bedroom, with the door closed. When he looks like that. Wooseok scratches at his shoulder.

"—I might be getting a little ahead of myself, but I was thinking about packing lists, you know? Making some for the kids, especially the ones who haven't traveled abroad yet?" Hangyul itches his neck with his free hand and Wooseok tracks the movement, his own nails grazing the bare skin of his forearm.

"Won't the manager-hyungs take care of all that?" He murmurs.

"Well, yeah," Hangyul says. "But it would still be nice to like. Do something for them. To ease their nerves, you know?"

"Yeah," Wooseok says, automatic.

"So as far as that is concerned, I..." Hangyul trails off as Wooseok winds his arms around his neck, pressing himself against Hangyul's back. "Hyung," he murmurs, voice dropping and taking Wooseok's stomach down with it. A question.

"I'm bored," Wooseok says, voice dropping low, too.

"We're supposed to be sorting out plans for KCON."

"We will," Wooseok says, fingers dipping down the front of Hangyul's shirt and skirting over his skin. "Later."

"Irresponsible," Hangyul mutters, shifting under Wooseok's touch.

"Does it bother you?" Wooseok asks. "When I touch you like this."

"I never said that."

"Then," Wooseok says, pressing his palms flat against Hangyul's chest, "would you rather continue looking over plans—" He taps his thumbs against Hangyul's sternum. "—Or something more interesting?"

"I thought you were interested in the plans."

"I was."

"Shouldn't you finish what you start?"

"I intend to." What is with him today? Wooseok does not dare like this. Not in play, not in bed, and not even with the man whose breathing he can feel starting to grow ragged beneath his hands. Maybe it's the tattoo. Maybe it's the smell of shampoo. Maybe it's Hangyul sitting at his feet like an obedient watchdog, or his big nose, or his roots showing through, or something in Hangyul's damn DNA that turns Wooseok inside out and makes him an animal.

"Do what you want," Hangyul says. "I'm going to check our schedule."

Wooseok has tried to curb it. He has tried every trick in the book, every self-guided meditative trance, every maladaptive coping mechanism to grab this feeling by the throat and shake it until it chokes. He has tried to bury it under the floorboards but it pulses inside him and eats away at his self-control until he becomes this. This.

He fastens his teeth to Hangyul's earlobe and this time Hangyul's breath does hitch around a surprised gasp. Wooseok's ankle protests lightly at the tightness of Hangyul's grip but Wooseok doesn't let go. He drags his teeth along Hangyul's ear. Scolding. Demanding.

"Hyung," Hangyul says in a tiny voice.

Wooseok releases his ear and tongues lightly at his shiny hoop earring, apologetic. Hangyul's grip on his ankle loosens. Jerkily, Hangyul tilts his head, exposing his jaw and neck to Wooseok.

"I thought you were checking the schedule," Wooseok murmurs.

"_Hyung_," Hangyul says again.

"Alright," Wooseok says. "I'm sorry." He kisses Hangyul behind his ear and lets his lips drag along the line of Hangyul's jaw. His skin has a slightly soapy taste to it and the clean scent of shaving cream is stronger nestled against his jaw. His skin is soft from ear to chin and as pleasant to the touch of lips as a steamed bun. Wooseok noses beneath Hangyul's jaw to press a kiss there, exposing more of Hangyul's neck. Hangyul obliges.

He kisses Hangyul's neck with careful attention. Hangyul's body everywhere else is strong and taut—arms, chest, stomach, thighs—but the skin of his neck is papery and delicate, appealing to the predatory, snapping animal that lives in Wooseok's heart. He lets his mouth rest against Hangyul's pulse point for a longer moment, feeling the blood in his neck thud against his lips. As a reminder that he could tear out Hangyul's throat like this. Hangyul's pulse is pleasingly fast. Another reminder—that Hangyul knew how bloodthirsty Wooseok got around him and he still wanted it.

Wooseok drags his teeth across Hangyul's pulse and Hangyul rumbles in his throat, a tiny protest. "No marks," he reminds Wooseok in a whisper.

"I'll be gentle," Wooseok promises. He runs his teeth down the length of Hangyul's throat and laps at his skin, but true to his word he doesn't suck at it, leaving only the faintest pink lines that would be gone within the hour.

It's so quiet in Wooseok's room. In the whole dorm. Usually Wooseok played some music low in the background after the other members went to bed, just to cut the silence, but he had lost track of time before Hangyul came in. The only ambient noise comes from the air conditioner clicking on and off and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It's quiet enough to hear the scuff of feet passing in front of his door. It's quiet enough to hear Hangyul getting worked up.

Wooseok loves it. The rush of breath through Hangyul's nose when Wooseok nips him; the stuttered, almost noises in the back of his throat; the swish of his sweats against the vinyl flooring as he shifts in place. Hangyul's self-restraint is in part to save face and in part to keep these particular activities on the down-low. It's responsible of him, keeping this from their live-in coworkers, and Wooseok feels the same way. But a savage, proud part of him twists in pleasure every time he breaks that restraint.

His nails have gotten longer lately. Wooseok lowers his eyes to his hands, still down Hangyul's shirt. Then he raises them to watch Hangyul's expression when he runs a nail over his nipple.

Hangyul's eyes shoot open and he snaps upright with a sharp inhale. He releases Wooseok's ankle to smack his hand over his chest, squashing Wooseok's hand. "Hyung!" he hisses, and Wooseok bites at his shoulder in lieu of an apology. With his free hand, Hangyul reaches up to yank at the hair curling around Wooseok's ear.

"_Ah_," Wooseok chirps, startled. His stomach flips.

"I thought we agreed to keep this a secret," Hangyul says.

"We did," Wooseok agrees. "I'm not the one being noisy though?"

Hangyul growls and shakes Wooseok's head. Wooseok's eyelashes flutter and he swallows around the noise in his throat. His insides feel hot and tight.

"You're such an asshole," Hangyul says.

"If you hate me so much," Wooseok says, "then why are you turned on?"

Hangyul turns his hips away from Wooseok with a weak glare. Wooseok laughs through his nose. He hadn't even looked there.

"I don't hate you," Hangyul grumbles. "But I hate your stupid habit of doing shit like this. You're so horny."

Is he? Hm. Probably. "But if I don't rile you up, you'll spend all night looking at diagrams and spreadsheets," Wooseok says.

"Yeah," Hangyul agrees. "I know. Like I'm supposed to. Like _you're_ supposed to, too."

"I can't help it. I'm 'so horny.'"

"So jerk off beforehand."

"Maybe I did."

Hangyul snorts. "So...what? I come in and talk business and suddenly you want to go again? I'm not that hot."

Wooseok tries to think of a response, but he takes too long and Hangyul turns his head to give Wooseok a curious look. "I'm really not that hot," he says again, but it sounds like a question.

"No, you aren't," Wooseok says, but his voice is too quiet.

Hangyul lets Wooseok go and turns around, Wooseok drawing back and tucking his legs to the side, fixing Hangyul's right ear with a poker-faced stare. Hangyul touches Wooseok's knee and Wooseok jerks in place. Hangyul's eyebrows shoot up. "Maybe I am that hot," he says.

"You aren't," Wooseok insists. "You can go back to your laptop whenever you want."

Hangyul touches his fingers to the inseam of Wooseok's pajama pants. He runs his thumb up Wooseok's thigh, hot through the thin material. Wooseok closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. Hangyul gets too close to Wooseok's inner thigh and Wooseok stops him with a hand over his. He opens his eyes and meets Hangyul's softened expression.

"Don't look at me like that," Wooseok snaps. He expects Hangyul to gloat.

"Is it nice?" Hangyul asks instead. "I'll be gentle with you."

Wooseok casts his eyes to the ceiling. "Can't you just fuck me and go away?"

"I didn't know you were like this, too," Hangyul says softly. "It's sweet."

"Fuck you," Wooseok says.

Hangyul wiggles his hand free and Wooseok lets him. He shouldn't let him. Hangyul strokes Wooseok's inner thigh gently, as promised. Wooseok swallows. He really shouldn't let him.

Hangyul's other hand joins its partner on Wooseok's other leg and he presses his fingers in lightly, pushing Wooseok's legs apart.

"_Hangyul_," Wooseok says, wounded.

"Shh," Hangyul says. "Who's being noisy now, hm?" But he stops. "I won't if you don't want me to."

"Chivalry died forever ago. You don't have to keep trying to revive it."

Hangyul waits.

Letting out a frustrated exhale through his nose, Wooseok looks at the far wall and tries not to wither and die as he parts his legs slightly.

"Wooseok-hyung," Hangyul says, voice low. His thumbs press harder into Wooseok's legs. Wooseok swallows.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Hangyul frees him only to press a hand to Wooseok's stomach and push him onto his back. Wooseok falls against his mattress and thinks distractedly of his unmade bed, the crumbs in the corner he hasn't swept up yet, the crumpled paper towel on his pillow from a snack earlier in the day. He's pulled from his thoughts by Hangyul climbing on top of him.

"My bed is messy," Wooseok says.

Hangyul tilts his head. "Yes?"

"I should tidy up," Wooseok says, making to sit up.

Hangyul stops him with a hand on his stomach, again. "If you don't stop fretting, I'm really gonna lose it," Hangyul says.

"What? But it's a mess—" Wooseok is cut off by Hangyul's hand, now cupping his cheek, and Hangyul's mouth, dipping down to kiss him fully, warmly. Wooseok's head swims and when they surface from the kiss, his hands are clutching the front of Hangyul's shirt. He stares at them. They need to talk about this acting-without-thinking thing.

"This," Hangyul says.

"This...what?" Wooseok says.

"When you act like this, soften up," Hangyul says. "This is what drives me out of my mind."

"I am not soft," Wooseok protests.

"You're hot when you're an asshole," Hangyul says. "I like that too. But when you get like this you're so..." He lets out a sigh. "Lewd."

"You're just a top," Wooseok scoffs.

"No," Hangyul says. "I just like to make you feel good."

That shuts Wooseok up. But it's hard to argue with sincerity. It's hard to argue with Hangyul looking at his mouth through lidded eyes. His hand slipping back down to slide under Wooseok's shirt. His hot fingers on the cool skin of Wooseok's stomach, the top of his hip. He forgets why he needs to argue; if there was even a reason to argue in the first place. He wants to feel good. He wants Hangyul.

"Stupid," Wooseok says. He reaches up to thumb Hangyul's bottom lip. Hangyul leans in to kiss him again and Wooseok meets him, holding him by the back of his neck. Hangyul's nose butts against Wooseok's and Wooseok feels his heart squeeze.

"Good?" Hangyul asks in a whisper.

"Yeah," Wooseok says.

Hangyul hooks a hand behind Wooseok's knee and pulls him flush with Hangyul's body.

"Still good?" He asks, voice wavering.

Wooseok wraps his legs around Hangyul's hips and looks up at him through his eyelashes. "Yeah," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> [my chaotic twitter](https://www.twitter.com/whiskerprince)
> 
> quick q&a
> 
> Q: will you ever finish your other in progress fics?  
A: yeah  
Q: i feel like gyulcat is your hyperfocus right now. can we expect more oneshots?  
A: yeah  
Q: do you have a complex gyulcat longfic based on flash in the works don't lie i know you do  
A: yeah  
Q: kim  
A: wooseok


End file.
